


Fire Hazard

by personaljunkdrawer



Series: Marvel Ficlets - Inspired by Discord [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brief Smut, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Established Relationship, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Fire?, Fluff and Crack, He doesn't actually molest the robot, M/M, Open Relationships, Sex Toys, Sexual Themes, Tony Stark Lives, Unwise Use of Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personaljunkdrawer/pseuds/personaljunkdrawer
Summary: Steve, who had been alerted, and was the tower fire marshal -of course- froze in the doorway. "You know what?" He took in a good look at the scene, and turned on his heels. "Nope. Not my battle, not my war. I am too old, I amwaytoo old for this shit..." He muttered, hauling back up the stairs."Y-you mean it?" Peter was beaming when Tony turned back, his heart swelled - at the approval, at the implication."Yes, I mean it.” Tony sighed, nearing him with pleading eyes, “So, please do not molest the tech!""N-no, I mean - you…” He cleared his throat, stepping toward Tony until his hands were fisted into the sides of Tony’s tee-shirt, “...you think I could - could, maybe, like," He was blushed, and beaming, and bright-eyed, lip worried between teeth, Tony giving him that expectant and somehow still endearing look "...catch some, some ‘stray dick’?"Tony sighed. "Yes, Peter. Yes, you could." He leaned down to press a tender kiss against his forehead, "Now remove the vibrator and help me put out the fire."---Peter learns the flammable way that the lab is not a good hiding spot for his vibrator, but he earns some confidence in the process.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Marvel Ficlets - Inspired by Discord [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871188
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	Fire Hazard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TellMeNoAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/gifts).



> Thank you to WinterIronCap and Samthesnakefor beta-ing this, and the WriterBuddies Discord group for always supporting my nonsense. Y'all the best.
> 
> And TellMeNoAgain, for whom this has been re-worked and gifted, absolute best of luck at work these coming weeks - I hope this can help with the stress even for a second.

Peter had developed a bit of a _habit_ , it could be argued. He was, like any other warm-blooded allosexual, frequently distracted by the inhabitants of the compound. The Bite hadn’t really done too much to his libido, nothing unmanageable or concerning; it was just a combination of several factors. His incredibly attractive team-mates, his frequently busy and equally hot superhero-genius-philanthropist-former-playboy-boyfriend, and the constant flirting. Fortunately, he had an escape when the combined factors got out-of-hand, an extraction policy enacted before any physical evidence of his arousal became visible to others. The bottom-most lab, 8-D for biochemical engineering, had a door that opened to two small, separate suites.

Just a twin bed, a side-table with a lamp, a few outlets to charge a phone perhaps, and a shared bathroom. They were FRIDAY enabled, but that could be shut down for privacy with the right clearance, which Peter had. The intended function of the little rooms was to provide a comfortable crashing-place after a science-binge; one of Bruce’s ideas that Tony had adopted after the unsnapping in hopes of promoting healthier choices.

That was their function - Peter _knew_ that - but he also knew that with the right ingenuity, nearly anything could have multiple functions. So, when spending weekends or late nights at the compound, distracted by the fetching features of his team-mates, Peter took a reprieve in the crash-rooms off of Lab 8-D. He always remained tactful, polite, and kind in their presence, and as soon as he had the excuse, he went downstairs for a little relief. He would, without fail, speak to and look at them respectfully. He was absolutely not respectful to his own body thereafter. Would he prefer to take Tony down to the crash-room with him? Throw his boyfriend a knowing look and indulge in some afternoon delight? Absolutely! But Tony was a busy man, and Peter had a plan for these occasions.

He had a method. Take the elevator to the 7-A lab, theoretical physics, and cut through to 7-D; the non-emergency staircase to 8-A, biomedical examination, gave him enough coverage to politely ask FRIDAY to sound-proof the crash-rooms and stop the feeds, and respectfully request that KAREN take a break from monitoring his vital signs. Once in 8-A, he’d find DUM-E’s charging port, and call him over.

This worked brilliantly, because while Spider-Man was an Avenger, Peter Parker was technically a Stark Industries Intern, and one of his roles was lab maintenance. As another ward of the lab, DUM-E fell under Peter’s care - to make sure he had a clear route to his charging port, that his claw was operational, and that his cache and vents were cleaned regularly. No one else bothered to check, so it was good that Peter did. DUM-E had finally found his Forever-Nerd, and the relationship was symbiotic - or as much as could be argued for a mutant and a robot.

Peter would then have DUM-E plug in, one of his protocols being to stay until fully charged unless there was an emergency. Peter would carefully dust his vents, check his wheels and claw, and then open his cache, a hidden drawer on his left side between the wheels, that pulled out. Inside, Peter had a few _aids_ for his post-respectful relief routine. He would leave DUM-E to charge, take the aids, and scurry off to the crash-rooms with a little grin and a pep in his step.

It worked seamlessly, and beautifully. Today, Peter was particularly excited, because Steve and Bucky had decided to spar shirtless and it brought back a rush he hadn’t felt since Germany. He’d had two reactions to his first encounter with James Buchanan Barnes aka _The Winter Soldier_. The first was that the way his body responded to the grunt of a man of that stature coming at him, and the intensity in those steel eyes, should be re-evaluated at a safer time in regard to his sexuality. The second was that he had a metal arm, which was super cool, and totally awesome, and genuinely fascinating, and did nothing but bolster his sexual confusion. Safety acquired, grunt re-evaluated, and Peter was about as straight as a sine wave.

The sparring wasn’t what started the issue though, it was breakfast. Natasha and Tony snarking back and forth in four different languages; switching and flipping effortlessly. He wondered what else such sharp minds and versatile tongues could get up to, before respectfully asking for more maple syrup. The gentle warmth of Sam’s dazzling brown eyes did _not_ help. He made it through the rest of the day as courteous and calm as possible, tamping the heat down as the embers were wafted.

He relaxed onto the twin bed of crash-room B, and unburdened himself of clothing as quickly as possible. He adjusted and lubricated his aids as necessary and got to work. The pleasure of privacy and relief, the freedom of fantasy, was building tense and high in his chest when he realized something: DUM-E could recognize objects. He froze.

DUM-E knew different types of wrenches, beakers, tools. He knew what they were for and what they were called, and he had never once beeped or whirred at Peter using his under-belly as a cache for his sex toys. He didn’t find them unfamiliar. Which meant he’d had to have seen them before, had to have been informed of them. He gasped, choked, fist tightening and wrist twisting at the thought of it - of Tony doing the same thing, desperate and heated on the crash-room bed, working himself over with a fervor. His hips canted up into his hand, rolled back down onto the buzzing toy inside him. He tossed his head back, free hand coming to toy at his peaked, sensitized nipples. A stuttered moan fell from his parted lips as he stroked himself, tension edging higher. The idea, the image of it, he’d seen Tony’s face pinched in concentration, seen it lax in relief. He tumbled into his orgasm with a bitten off shout.

He tidied himself up in the adjoining bathroom, hurrying off to 8-A to stow his toys in DUM-E’s cache-drawer to be cleaned once his lab work was done, and double back. He returned to the crash-room just in time to avoid someone coming into 8-D. KAREN and FRIDAY were called back online as he was dressing in a fresh set of clothes tucked into the nightstand. FRIDAY informed him that Tony was already in 8-D, at workbench 3, updating his repulsor fuel. They were working on biofuel as a complement to the arc technology, and that required some biochemistry. 

Tony crashed to the floor with a thud that sounded worse than it was, but the flaming liquid spreading into the corner was his main concern. It was, only for a moment, because if anyone in the lab was prepared for even an inkling of fire, it was DUM-E, with enough extinguishing power to defeat the Fire Nation or whatever Peter was rambling about before he’d disappeared down into the labs. DUM-E was, if anything, trigger-happy, and the fire would be no match. Peter appeared, now, through the crash-room doors, eyes wide and cheeks red.

Tony rose with a grumble and removed the gauntlets, DUM-E zooming past him to the rescue. “Don’t worry, DUM-E’s got it.” He soothed. He gestured for Peter to join him back at the workbench to tweak the recipe. The capacity for combustion was definitely there, if in excess, as his aching joints informed him. Peter followed suit, grabbing a set of goggles on the way. He was expecting the schnick and whoosh of the extinguisher when all he heard was a soft click and then buzzing. Peter froze, some pained noise escaping him.

Tony turned from the table, looking from Peter, to the fuel sample, to the fire. And there it was. DUM-E beeping with furious distress and waving a bright pink, activated, bunny-eared vibrator at the flames.

He could feel, behind him, Peter shrinking away. "Peter..." He warned. They’d discussed experimenting, talked about sharing, but Peter hadn’t exactly given Tony the _details_ of his little habit.

He groaned, stepping back from Tony’s tense form. "Peter, what the _fuck,_ baby?"

"I-I'm sorry." He squeaked.

Tony stalked over to the manual extinguisher when FRIDAY’s voice from above them chimed. _"Mr. Stark, it would appear DUM-E is ill-prepared for the fire. Should I spray -"_

"No!" Peter shouted. Tony whirled around, eyes dark. "Th-the extinguishing fluid would b-break the..." He gestured in DUM-E's general direction.

His eyes caught the rise of Tony’s chest, the furrow of his brows, "If the spray doesn’t do it, the fire will!” He shouted. “And why, pray tell, _the fuck_ is it on?!”

"I'm sorry!" Peter tried, as DUM-E's beeps hastened and U wheeled into the room. Halting at the sight of the flames, and began to whirl in distressed circles. DUM-E, seeing this as a viable alternative to his actual job, began to gyre about in figure-eights, sounding out a shrill and distraught continuous beep. Peter ambled over to comfort him while Tony yanked the extinguisher down from the wall.

U's beeps were downright frantic with Tony grumbling at him and Peter flushed à la tomate, when DUM-E hit a turn too hard and tipped over, a plug and bottle falling from his cache that had knocked open.

Tony stopped in his tracks. "Peter..."

"Mr. Stark...?"

DUM-E was nearly shrieking.

He lowered the extinguisher, sighing. "Why?"

Peter swallowed, "I get...your hours are so long and the - the hormones, and the bite, I get…” His hands twitched, “...I get, and everyone’s so - so - you get _busy_ , and I told you...ya know."

They'd missed FRIDAY’s alert over the cacophonous awkwardness. Peter looked about ready to cry, U was putting sirens to shame with his wailing, DUM-E would've felt violated, had they feelings, and the flames were spreading slowly up the wall.

Tony clenched his jaw. "Just because you are _horny_ does not mean you get to violate my fire-bots! We’re a team, Peter, you have _options_!” His voice raised, strained in agitation. “If I am unavailable, and you want it _that badly_ , you can just roam around upstairs in those blue shorts you got and see if you don’t catch some stray dick!” He gestured wildly at the shorts Peter was currently wearing. They’d talked about it, he knew it, semantically - it just hadn’t occurred to him that the team being an open thing meant that it was open to him as well. He had options outside of Tony and the crash-room. He balked.

Steve, who had been alerted, and was the tower fire marshal - _of course_ \- froze in the doorway. "You know what?" He took in a good look at the scene, and turned on his heels. "Nope. Not my battle, not my war. I am too old, I am way too old for this shit..." He muttered, hauling back up the stairs.

"Y-you mean it?" Peter was beaming when Tony turned back, his heart swelled - at the approval, at the implication.

"Yes, I mean it.” Tony sighed, nearing him with pleading eyes, “So, please do not molest the tech!"

"N-no, I mean - you…” He cleared his throat, stepping toward Tony until his hands were fisted into the sides of Tony’s tee-shirt, “...you think I could - could, maybe, like," He was blushed, and beaming, and bright-eyed, bottom lip worried between teeth; Tony giving him that expectant and somehow still endearing look, "...catch some, some ‘stray dick’?" 

Tony sighed. "Yes, Peter. Yes, you could.” He leaned down to press a tender kiss against his forehead. “Now remove the vibrator and help me put out the fire."

"Y'sir!" Peter chirped with a wider grin and a newfound pep in his step. So maybe this habit didn’t work out as beautifully and seamlessly as he’d thought, but he was too encouraged and excited to be upset.


End file.
